This Guy

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

So the Ebay thing, worked apparently I'm the orangutan that can swing through the trees better than the other primates...I'll be wearing this on the next roadtrip after it arrives. Blast-shield and all the electronics work..anyone need a co-pilot in their private plane? I'm a prety poor navigator...but at least I'll look good. Rule number 1 in life. You gotta look good, doesn't matter if yor 45 and wearing a diaper at a bar....if you look good doing it, you're golden.

Now all I need is a callsign and I should be set. Or perhaps an Electrical Engineer that can rewire my cel phone to work in the headset. (whoa, Stellar)

I've never used Ebay, not that I'd be looking for a bunch of llamas or something to that effect. I decided today that it was a moral imperative that I get one item that has been on my mind for quite sometime. I've bid on the item, and there are 4 other monkeys in the race and I'm hoping that 13hrs from now I'll be the proud owner. Since this is my first dip in the pond that is Ebay I'm still wary of any snapping turtles that may be under the murky surface of the water. We'll have to see how it all works out in the end.

I can't reach the ejection handle!

- You're gonna have to punch us out.- I can't reach the ejection handle!

- Eject...- Watch the canopy!

OK technically it's not a Naval Aviators helmet..it's a US Army attack helicopter's skull cap.."It'll serve the purpose just as well."

As my bank account grows I consistantly find new reasons and new things that I want to spend my hard earned cash on. After bills and whatnot that leaves little or no ME money but I can always skimp on food stocks. I don't know if I've mentioned before that I wanted to start in earnest to be one of those regular apes that spends a dollar a day on a dream in hopes of winning the lottery. Winning the big one, being the go to guy for any slime out there that wants to solicit donations from a super rich philanthropist. The last few...er, um everytime I submit numbers for the Mega, bazillian ball lottery to open my chances I'm generally off by about 5 numbers. Since there are only 5 numbers chosen to pick the winner...I'm never too happy about the outcome.I changed my mode of thinking and have moved on to a different lottery, kind of. Today was another adventure with the vending machine lottery. It may seem stupid, and it may be a bit juvenile...but gosh darn it. I play the vending machine lottery and I win almost everytime. One dollar and a dream...I put my dollar into the machine, punch in a number and almost instantly I get a prize. Today I played the number E6 and won an Iced tea. (extatic? you betcha!)It sometimes doesn't work and I lose the vending machine lottery, case in point... I typed in the number f5 the other day and was expecting to win some trailmix. It wasn't in the cards...the prize for F5 got stuck. I eventually strong armed my prize from the machine. I put a shoulder into it, grabbed it by its sides and shook the hell out of it. Eventually the machine relented and dropped what was coming to me. I couldn't help thinking how doing that at the lotto machine in the local convenience store would have landed me in jail. Quick pick/ scratch off..."no winners" grabbing the clerk and thumping their skull until the register opened and gave me some money. On occasion I've even gotten double the prize, a week ago I played the number B2 and not only won some Snyders Pretzels, but also pulled down a bonus of oreo cookies. That means that someone may have lost in the lottery and didn't have the muscle to beat the machine into submission to retrieve their winnings. I'm gonna stick to the vending machine lottery it makes me feel good to win.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Again I festered this weekend, I had planned to travel and make a few suprise stops to see friends in 'Cuse, P-dam, and the Toga on the return round trip.. I had nothing but fester.(Not uncle fester...If I had a relative that could light a lightbulb in his mouth that'd be odd) I woke up on Thursday morning and my eye itched a bit...it turned to border line ouch by the end of my shift staring at the computer Thursday evening, and when I awoke on Friday "Morning"; yes morning...10am, I was going to hit the road, my left eye had "the funk", it was cemented shut such that you could only see something similar had you landed on Planet LV426, Or watched any of the the scifi Aliens movies having seen the cocoons and stuff. I had to chisel my eye open. No chest bursting little critters, but one hell of a time opening the eye.I decided that since most of the folks I would have visited had young children, some very young, that it would be best that I not bring my funky eye to their residences. It's not like I would actually pick up one of their kids and touch my eyeball directly to one of the childrens' ewwww with a capital ewwww. I thought it best to keep my eyes to myself. It would have been horrible for Uncle Bob to deliver temporary blindness to the wee ones.Don't be worried, my eye is better, although they do have more green color than usual this week, it seems to be taking over the gray and brown. Or perhaps I just haven't noticed cuz I don't look into my eyes much until there is a problem. So there is the weekend round-up, I had a festering gunk that turned my eye color more decidedly green, and didn't have the chance to leave home, not wanting to infect the young of my friends.They pay me at the Gazette, so I'll tak ethis opportunity to start another glorious weeks wages.

Friday, January 26, 2007

I'm having an ongoing internal debate as to the effectivenes of my social skills since I started working the late late late shift. It seems that I've fallen from a normal guy, to a rabid social misfit. Granted to takes some work to be a social creature as it is, but I'm having some difficulty. I find myself more and more removed from contact in general and haven't been able to keep up with personal contact with friends and family. When I do get the opportunity I find that inevitably I stick my foot in my mouth with regard to proper interaction/etiquette.

Case in point and one that I've seriously been kicking myself in the arse for, for a good while. I had the chance to hang out with a couple that are nothing short of stellar great people and was invited to dinner. I was in a social acceptable funk I guess at the time, but enjoyed making dinner and having a few cocktails with them. During dinner I tried some food I'm not usually inclined to partake and in a thought or thoughtless second (I think this will be funny to myself) I spit out a simile and mentioned that my taste buds were tuned to this food such that it kind of tasted like new shoes smell at a shoe store. (that folks is a rude ass thing to say) Step one, insert foot in mouth, step two kick one's own ass, step three think about the interaction for a month to work yourself into anxiety attack. It didn't help that my hosts were gracious enough to offer that I crash there for the evening, and a prior engagement which was easily cancellable prompted an early exedus. It was a foolish call and I'm kicking myelf over that as well. I left and immediately felt dispair with my poor friendishness.

I've always had issues with saying good bye either after an evening, a hour long visit, a few days at my folks place, the last eye to eye meeting between past girls and I, and just over all in general (Nhu-Mai comes to mind...I really F-k'ed up that one hardcore). A handshake, and a hug for the lil misses? A pat on the back and a little bow out for the lil lady? A hearty smellya later? How is it possible to take leave of an encounter and be socially on top of your game? At points I know it'll be weeks if not months til I see the people again face to face...where do the standards come into play and what are those standards. I also find that when I end up leaving a place I have a hard time with eyecontact...is that a character flaw, or just a social imperfection? Eye contact being one of the best interpersonal interactions that you can have denoting that you are A.) interested and attentive, b.) aknowledges the fact that you are present at the time and not off in la la land and C.) respectful enough to not stare at someones shoes while speaking to them even if it's saying see ya around. I'm such a bitch when it comes to thinking of my interactions of late, and frankly I suck.

Hopefully I'll be able to travel soon and put into practice better guest relations and provide myself with a basis for something less than self contempt.

Today is one of those days it's better to be looking into the fishbowl and not swimming around in it.

This arrived in the mail today and I'm going to line it with tinfoil to keep the voices out.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Although most people think of Malwart as a bain to society. I find after looking at my W-2 that the food-mart has better prices than the Nisky Food Co-OP...on average only 3$ cheaper for everything. You won't find Free Range Chicken broth, but a boys gotta eat...and I've been working out lately and I needs me some foods. (don't worry ladies...I'm still wafer thin, and zombie-esque... I'm not overly ripped yet) I spent an inordinate amount of loot today to stock the fishbowl with provisions that should last me until April, or two weeks from now depending on whether or not I want to serriously get my eat on. It took me 4 hours to get my shopping finished for a few reasons. The first is that my place is boring, I already primed a few canvases in the last few days, and also didn't feel like smelling like Plastilina today. Since I was up at 10am, there was nothing to do. I wandered around the mega-store people watching with an air of snootiness...I'm not like these people I thought, "ever been in a Walmart in the wee hours of the morning? The freaks come out at night"..then had the realization that I'm no better than anyone. I'm a walmart shopper today..everyone else here is doing the same thing. Except "that guy" whose sticking stuff in his puffy jacket. I'm definitely above that guy. I shopped and shopped, loaded fresh veggies, frozen dinners, Party sized Stouffers goodness that will last about one meal..you know all the essentials. I then spent another hour searching for the perfect treat to compliment my frugality..ice cream? nah....donut goodness for breakfast? nah.....chocolate somethings that will make me break out in huge spots and look like a heroine addict, nah....... I decided on not deciding, and headed for the checkout. I bought pants on the way...hell they were right there. It was the first time in 10months that I couldn't hit the express aisle. I felt good.I later stopped at Stewarts and bought 2 half gallons of icecream, I couldn't resist. I returned to the fishbowl and noticed that they had washed the blood off the sidewalk bully for the cleaning crew. Mugs was at it again...two customers, I went in and unpacked the groceries.Not a bad day for a guy used to sleeping until 3pm letting the world spin by preferring the back of my eyelids to the funk that is the 'Dirt.TONIGHT I EDIT the COMICS for the week...(<=insert gratuitous laughter) I get paid to do it.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

I strolled out of my apartment this afternoon on my way to work, and on the walk to the few stairs that I have to traverse to get to the parking lot....all 5 of them, there was a pool of semi-frozen blood about the size of a frisbee ( there was no grey matter, so I immediately ruled out my elderly neighbors taking a spill, whacking their melon). I tend to be a clutzy and get broken easily sort of guy. I immediately checked my appendages, looked for blood soaking through my clothes, dripping gashes in my arms, and checked to see if my junk was ok. The blood wasn't mine. That ladies and gentlemen, freaked me out....pool of blood near my door, it's semi-frozen...and the apartment maintenance guys didn't either A.) know about it, or B.) give a damn enough to clean it off the sidewalk. I hate to say it, but a part of me hopes that one of my neighbors did fall and injure themsleves, not mortally wounded, but dinged up a bit. It would let my mind rest from all the visions of a gangster stumbling around my complex looking for a place to bleed after a crack deal gone bad, a shooting, stabbing or brick throwing (It's happened, and it wasn't that so far in the past).I'm thinking that time to move from my current living situation has just stepped up from needed, to imperative, bordering on immediate exedus.

Random blood is never a good thing, although I'd rather it be mine after a drunken evening than not know whom it belonged to, and outside my apartment. Me = Safe? Not feelin' it.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

I just spent an entire weekend engaged in an activity that anyone can do...but many don't have the opportunity. I did absolutely nothing; I FESTERED. I sat on a friends couch, watched TV and when the occasion presented itself, I ate food. Saturday I wasn't functional until 9pm after a day long snooze, all day long. I showered for the first time since Friday morning, just prior to returning to the Cubical goodness that is my work station this evening. I was what some people consider funky, only I couldn't discern "funk" until after I washed it all off. I was ripe with funk. It felt funky. Two weekends of nothing make Bob a somethign something. I would steer toward waste of space, but I recieved an email from a friend in ME and her ex-beau in CO is officially now on the roster of people that use up our oxygen. I may waste space...but I damn well deserve oxygen so we'll not steer down that path.

I think it's just about time to make the rounds again and start the winter travel schedule in earnest. The only prob. Where to first? I don't mind traveling within a 5hr circumfrence from my current locale, as long as it affords me time to zip home prior to returning to work. I'm not the biggest fan of my own funk as stated above, but the work doesn't have any issues with it at all, even on my most putrid days I still have a flowery smell as compared to some of the pressmen out in the back. Leaving funky plays no hand in departure times. SO that's my dilemna for the week, it's not rotten milk, I have a food in the fridge, and I'm starting to manage to roll out of bed prior to 2pm nowadays (except Saturday, that really doesn't count cuz I was couch surfing). Where to?

Friday, January 19, 2007

Be it a long drummed out look into a lunatic mind, or perhaps just a nonsensical raving about the cost of toenail clippings after being tossed into gold shavings. Creative tendencies can be a lucrative art selling machine. If it isn't a pet rock afterall, I'm looking at it sideways.

Another weekend approaches, and this time around I have nothing on the books. Sad but I shouldn't travel for a few more weeks just to let the Frankensteiner get used to it's new starter and cold morning jolts to life.

The last two weeks have just been boring enough at work that I decided to hit up match.com and start my search of the Intarwebb for a prospective rondezvous with destiny...if Destiny be her name. I layed everything out, and was totally myself.... no hits. Something sinks in the pit of my stomach when I think of how many people are out there in cyberspace and not even a creepy 60yr old dude pretending he's a lady will send me a message. Ughhh I just made me throw-up a bit in my mouth.

Looks like I'll cancel my account and head to the Glenville Bev center to try some Lambics.......

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Already paid for the value meal, sitting at window number two...the window of choice...the one where food is supposed to magically appear. I'm semi-politely told that it'll be a few minutes since they are waiting on fresh meat. (ok I think...you have to kill another cow, dress it, grind it, grill it, and place it in the bun - how long could that take?). All while this is happening, the people that were behind me in line are at window number one, the window that unceremoniosly takes your money for the priveledge of advancing to window number two. The radio station that was on, plays anything and everything...that's their tag line." We Play Anything". A song came on that I heard while at a Jr. High dance, the first time I slow danced with a girl...and subsequently the first girl I had a really healthy snog with. My mind wandered for a few moments remembering that time 18yrs ago-ish. The deep fry grease morphed to smell like Exclamation! perfume and more vividly, like Kari M.. I was Blankly staring into the automatic window lost 18yrs ago. The headset girl looked back at me like I was infatuated, said something, but the window was closed. (She was probably taking the order of a person yet to be behind me. yeah....that's what she was doing: or maybe she was telling the person next in line that some monkey was staring at her as if he knew her in a vacant sort of way, and had a half stack in his pants. Bullseye laaaaaady!) I snapped back to the realization that people at window number one were getting bags of food.... that's not supposed to happen, at least not 5 times. It's obvious to me that no-one else ordered anything with a beef product in it. A bunch of chicken eatin' skippin' protocol M-F'ers..they all pulled around me, making the person behind them back-up a bit to let them squeeze by. I could have pulled up a bit, but I was waiting for them to butcher the cow...and couldn't fathom the idea of it finally being ready and me not in a position to capitalize expeditiously. (time lapse 15min)I finally got my cow, and returned to work to savor my feast. When I opened the bag (contrary to what you might be thinking) it had the correct meal in it. Although it wasn't the most beautiful presentation...in fact it was quite possibly the poorest. My triple cheese burger wasn't fully wrapped in the paper, and the buns didn't line up, it looked like Pac-man barfing up three burger pattys, the condiments more or less were on the outside of the bun.....and "IT WAS COLD".In retrospect, they probably saw me staring at the window girl when I was daydreaming and thought "to hell with the fresh meat, this psycho is going to go postal if we don't get him his damned burger" so they went with the piecemeal stuff laying around to create my quasimoburger to get me out of the line. Maybe I should bring my own cow next time, a bouquet of flowers, and a sign that says freak hanging around my neck.

I couldn't locate any images of poorly constructed dismal looking hamburgers. I did find a 15lb. burger that looked tasty, not tasteless, with a large man wearing a yellow helmet.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Two trucks converge on a busy University in Bahgdad. Almost simultaneously they erupt killing a lot of people (65) and wounding exponentially more. Students, shop owners, women and children, and stunned men run away from the blast zone. Standing in their path a lone figure strapped with a suicide vest. He detonates.........

At the same time half way around the globe, I'm making a pot of coffee and wondering if I want to buy a Big Mac or a Whopper for dinner tonight cuz I'm too lazy to cook today for some reason.

I wonder about statistics:How many people died daily when Saddam was in power as opposed to now?How many Suicide Bombings occured before our Iraq-occupation "F"-up began?What are the success rates for strapping a bomb to yourself and heading to meet the big guy upstairs?How many potential Bombings have been stopped, bogged down, and rendered inert by occupation forces?How many innocent people exhibited strange behavior not unlike a stereotypical crazed bomber and have been dispatched?

(My co-worker and I were pondering) Is there a Middle Eastern (MidEast?) TV station that has anchors whom feed failed attempts at suicide bombings like America's Funniests Home Videos? Remove skier guy from the tree, and a dude getting way too close to a horny buffalo. Replace with a green army-jacketed Al Queda looking dirt-ball zigging and zagging; toward a coffee shop door, screaming whatever it is that'll get him into heaven as a Martyr (<=insert Dirka Dirka...jihad, husseinie aladirka). He makes it to the door, you can see his hand pressing the detonator...he hits head-first bouncing back off the locked door of the closed and completely empty shop, stumbles, lands on his dirt bag arse and vaporizes into a blood mist, a few chunks are all that is left aside from his left sandal. No-one else was harmed in anyway. The camera pans left, and sees a 3rd world minivan peeling off and it looks like the passenger is having convulsions. Possibly gut laughing something unintelligible. The camera switches back to the news room and the anchors are in a fit of side splitting laughter while unleashing rounds from their AK's into the plastered ceiling. Plaster chips and lime dust slowly fill the make shift studio.........

I've seen news coverage of failed attempts that cause a bunch of physical damage to property that haven't involved a single soul. In my opinion that's the mark of a perfect suicide bombing.

Monday, January 15, 2007

I'm not too sure if this is accurate, but it does give you percentages of the top ten likely choices for the answers you supplied.

I know there's a new show on television called I want to be a superhero of some retarda-stuff like that. I'm fortunate in that I don't have cable. If I could become a superhero of my choosing, I doubt if I could choose a pre-fabed entity. Given my own skills, and personality...I'd probably end up being more of an intellectual. Somewhere along the lines of Capt'n TnT (that's Tanguere N' Tonic, not the explosive.)

I doubt seriously if I could save the world, but I'd definietly go down in a blaze of glory. Hiiiiick'up

I walked out of the darkness and into the blinding light, cars raced by, the "Taste of India's" smells were heavy under the glare. My senses had been totally shocked. As I took the 7 steps down to the curb the smell of wings and stale beer hit me like a freight train. How could it smell that bad back in there?! I guess after so long you get accustomed to it. I had left because I was hungry and cheese fries/wings weren't going to cut it. ( normal thought after pounding down 10 or 11 pitchers.) After my eyes slowly adjusted to the blinding light, I realized that it was just a normal partly cloudy day here in the Great White North, it was 5:30pm and I had been in McDuff's for 2 1/2hrs getting my drink on. Djrecks subs sounded like utter filth even though it was 4 steps away....there's a certain point when you have a lunchmeat sandwich, the bite that will take you over the edge...the last bite, the bite that sends you down the road to Chunderville. without out even stepping inside, I already felt the heave. No dice. Turning toward the south I wandered, stumbled, staggered....Pizza joints, BackSl*ts, Maxfields, the Hop ( you can no longer smoke inside so the hop wasn't the same as it used to be...now in order to get a decent plate of greasy eggs with hair and ashes in them is to drive 4hrs away to Frank and Mary's Diner in Cortland) I can't drive...that would be pure and utter insanity. This walk took a very, very long time.... After taking stock of the money wadded up in my pocket I decided that there's only one thing that will work by way of food. A pizza bagel on pumperknickel bread, or a ruben on an everything bagel. no matter what it was, some Dread behind the counter baked out of his gord, would be sure to throw in a free something or other. The bagel looked a bit off when it arrived, it was lopsided, no care at all went into putting this thing together, it was sweating some kind of liquid onto a loosely wrapped piece of pseudo-tin foil. There's a pickle wrapped in there somewhere, and waxed paper that is missing from its usually prominently display. What did I order? "This is definitely not it" I said to the imaginary friend on the chair next to me. Things in the bagelry started revolving,uh oh.......lunchmeat suprise, I shouldn't eat another bite...... I finished my "whatever" bagel...the only way to stop the spinning was to stand up. So up I got and stood in line to order another bagel. What the hell am I doing, no longer hungry, just need to stand....yeah just need to stand. "Give me an everything bagel with double funk, red peppers, and some of that shit<>no not that shit...>yeah that shit......." uuuugh. Completely haneious. Stumbling out of the place I ran into a man I'd seen before, he was familiar, his voice was soothing, yet....who was he? After a few steps it dawned on me. Billy D was escorting me back to the bar....Billy Dee Williams himself sans the Colt 45. Thanks for dragging me back to this place. I entered the bar and it was brighter than when I left it, it was crowded, loud, and over whelming. People shouted my name and half heartedly tried to fill a plastic cup that appeared in my hand with their pitchers. They succeeded in filling my pockets and shoes with ruthless efficiecy, pouring beer everywhere but the cup it seemed.My guide back to this place was MIA at this point and I was severely listing to the right.......the lights dimmed, dipped again, then everything was dark. Quiet peace.

I woke up on a futon with the military channel explainging how Saddam Hussein gased 10's of thousands of Kurds in Northern Iraq......

Friday, January 12, 2007

Yeah, so Japanese is wicked haaaard. Spanish is beyond me after basic vocab ( I wasn't a good student in college nor highschool, and I haven't made it to the Southwest other than a doing a fly-bye burning the skin on the one arm sticking out the window, due to busted AC; but only until I switched to the passenger seat. Ah Balmorehia TX....how you sound like a disease. ). So what does a skinny ass honky like me do for a few hours at the end of my shift: find a Jive translator.

It's more understandable than Norwegian, and if I had wanted to pursue swahili, I would ahve attended St. Lawrence University.

I've taken this opporunity to translate the first stanza in the Hoker on a bike edition of Roxanne into both Jive and Norwegian for reference.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

After repeated battering in the last few weeks, it seems my immune system isn't too happy with me. It could be that it's finally not 70 degrees, I'm not sure. Ill is bad...specially that achy my hair even hurts ill. For me gone are the 7yrs of college without a single sickness that wasn't completely my fault. While attending various degree programs I supplimented my diet with plenty of quainine and gin to subdue any would be viruses, head colds, and general maladies, with the occasional intelligence lapse. Now that I'm not pickled on a regular basis my immune system has returned to mild mannered Clark Kent status. A weekend of rest approaches

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Roxanne, you dont have to ride your bike tonightThose days are overYou dont have to pedal into the nightRoxanne, you dont have to wear that skirt toniteRide the streets for moneyYou dont care if its dark or if its light

Roxanne, you dont have to put on the red lightRoxanne, you dont have to put on the red lightPut on the red light, put on the red lightPut on the red light, put on the red lightPut on the red light, oh

I've been laughin' since I saw yaI wouldnt talk right to yaI have to tell you just how I feelI would giggle with another ployI know my mind is screwed upSo put away your puffed wrap-upI should tell once I wont tell you again its a cold day

Roxanne, you dont have to put on the red lightRoxanne, you dont have to put on the red lightYou dont have to put on the red lightPut on the red light, put on the red light

I've just completed reading Whispers From The Stone Age, written by David Gardner. I'm not a great book critic so if you need a review, look on the site for the reviews from others that were able to read the piece. I was however convinced his proposal that we are, in fact, still Stone age humans was closer to fact than fiction. I re-evaluated some of the actions and reactions I have to my surroundings and wouldn't you know it, after just a few days of looking upon the world in a different light I feel better. Not so depressed, not so bitter. The writing style itself is a conversational spin on brainstorming I guess you could call it. "I've spoken with David...he writes like he converses"...it'll keep you focused on the points he's highlighted. Even if a tangent develops it'll eventually wind its way back to the original premise and flow into the book as a whole. Since I fancy myself a right brained individual...some of the book presented problems registering in my melon. That registering problem was null and void with respect to the description of how we are actually made of energized empty space though. Smoke that pipe if you can without knowing physics. (I don't know physics, but I know I'm empty now) I was completely impressed by his description of the sexes, and the reasons for why we act the way we do...and whom actually carries power in choosing the whos who among breeders. I must not be symetrical enough to warrant lots of byrds choosing me to psuedo-father their would be children. (<=insert gratuitous sexual inuendos and stuff). (Or maybe the reason rests in the fact that I just used the word Byrd to describe women....pretty shallow, that's me though....at least I didn't say Lizard {that's my Dad's saying} "Check out those lizards") If you have the option, give it a read. That's All I'm gonna say about that.

Whispers plug (check)

Oh, yeah...... I saw the hooker on the bike again, this time she was wearing a puffy jacket and a miniskirt. Pedal away oh lady of the night...pedal away. Sometime soon I'm gonna have to get a camera phone and take a still image....surreal is surreal and she's the Sch'dy Dali

Tuesday, January 9, 2007

When you drop something it's a natural reaction to try and catch it (unless you work with press plates, I've already stated the disco that is involved with that)

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it.

Over the Christmas Holiday my sis-in-law and my bro sent a glass beaker french press coffee pot my way. I love it, not only because it makes some pretty spectacularcoffee, but also because it adds class to my wretched apartment and makes me feel good about having something of aesthetic beauty in my kitchen.

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it. The beaker portion of the press is clear "look at me pressing this coffee goodness" glass in a stainless steel carriage with handle, the beaker is removable and replaceable. In order to make coffee you have to both add coffee grounds and boiling water to the mix. Since I have limited space in the kitchen, I set the contraption in the sink to add the boiling water, for a number of reasons. 1st and foremost...I spill the boiling water on a regular basis. Sink, hot water...no harm no foul. Hot water...waffle iron/microwave/electric range...electricution, I don't need to get juiced...my gray hair is coming in nicely at it's own pace an doesn't need to be expedited.

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it. I set the press in the sink this afternoon with full intensions of making a great brew, boiled the water, meticuously measured 4.30 scoops of Green Mountain blend French Vanilla coffee grounds (My coffee is the one thing I focus on prior to going to work...it has to be perfect. French Vanilla in a French Press <=insert guffaws in an outragious French accent)Water boils...coffee measured, press in the sink....pour boiling water, press...ahhhhh perfect, only sometimes as with most things in life....things can go wrong. {Not like a bone fragment floating around a previous scar on your chin creating a Kurt Douglas cleft wrong; that was two weeks ago, but wrong none the less.} I poured the water, and the press slid toward the disposal, dipping one of it's stainless legs into the drain.

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it. This gift was one of my favorites from the holiday season and the most handy of them all hands down.

When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass you try to catch it. I neither wanted it to break nor did I think finding a replacement would be easy....It had to be saved. With cat like reflexes, I grabbed the teetering glass beaker full on, and jammed my hand into the mouth so that it wouldn't topple over. I'm not going to say that submerging your hand in boiling coffee water is a bright thing to do, I could say it hurts..but I'm not going to. I will let you know that it does get your attention, Catlike reflexes, and the concentration of a Bald Eagle fishing in Alaska for salmon, Only my cat like reflexes only got me to catch floating coffee grounds in boiling water (Attention GOTTEN!). Adrenaline allowed me to ignore the pain for a split second and right the coffee press, I lost some grounds in the process.

Note to self: When you drop something made of glass it breaks, so when you drop something glass full of floating coffee grounds and scaulding hot water you try to catch it By the handle not the liquid asshole!

I re-added the displaced grounds, boiled a bit more water and finished making my coffee.

Today at work I wear proudly the reddish pink poached hand of coffee goodness as testiment to coffee drinkers all over the world. Somethings are worth the attention.

Monday, January 8, 2007

Just like every other dude on the planet, ones' first thought after waking up is to empty the bladder. If it's not your immediate thought as well, you're not a dude. ( Brusing teeth and washing yourself can come in a distant runner-up) After rousing yourself from the bed, moving over cracking toes on a cold ceramic floor to the can, you get to take aim and whizz. This is the point where you can significantly judge how your day will go from that point hence and prepare yourself for a day of destruction or a day free from relative aggravation.

Here's how you judge. If you stand in front of the porcelain take aim and power bubble a nice healthy whizz into the center of the bowl...you're in good shape....everything should be fine for the rest of the day. If alternatively you stand fast in front of the porcelain bowl unleash the power whiz and hit the shower curtain, floor, or the tank pissing sideways....and then have to torque yourself to make the stream eventually land in toilet water, it's a safe bet that the rest of your day will be devestatingly uneven.

From my observation it's harder to cook breakfast and not burn the toast if the latter happens to be the case.. It may be that I'm the only one flusterdd by such an occurance, but then again I'm not a fan of wiping up my own urine from around the bathroom with a make shift mop of wadded toilet paper. You may or not get disgruntled by the same experience, hell, maybe you delight in the fact that outdoor plumbing indoors means that you can hose anything down when and if you feel the urge.

Sunday, January 7, 2007

I've finally gotten the cobwebs out out of my brain, it's amazing that the human body can right itself so quickly after any sort of trauma. All the stiffness is practically gone, and I can think clearly. On a scale of 1-10 ten being the worst ever, I give my last bundy a rating of 8. I've never been higher than 8, and it's been a number of years since I had thought to use the chart. I've been careful, safe and not broken anything for quite soemtime. I guess it stands to reason that a person that once made a daily routine out of getting wrecked in some way, after taking a few years off, is bound to crash at somepoint.

Now that I can work with out my eyes glazed over, and read without shaking my head in time with my eyes twitching, things should be just dandy.

I didn't have to opportunity to try out any sales people this weekend, but I'll be on the path to a new car in the following few days. I've been contacted by some really intense internet sales people ready to make a deal which will undoubtedly make them feel better about purching their 14th Rolex. OR not?! that's where I'm leaning. I think the best strategy for me at this point is to treat them like a telemarketer...I love keeping those slugs on the phone until they've exhausted their last breathe in the eternal plug for money until I politely inform them I'm really not interested in the slightest bit to purchase a time share condo with a nice group of doctors. so that I can spend 3weeks a year in hurricane alley on some mosquito infested atoll in the Gulf of Mexico. At least when they're talking to me they're not pestering you right?

I have a number of business cards from the people I contacted, I think they teleported them to me. I spoke with a nice young lady on Thursday afternoon, and when I got to work an hour later I already had her card in my pocket. "when you get to the lot, ask for Susan" (I'll do that, yup I'll do exactly that...but only after I talk to the vultures wandering around the lot, giving them the option to waste their own time). Uh no I was hoping to talk to Susan, Chester...but thanks for telling me all the super awesome features of the Ford Focus wagon...I'm seriously considering purchasing a sub compact car at this point in my life...and nothing says mid-life crisis more than piss yellow Ford Focus screaming down the Northway. In fact I want to compensate for the relatively small wang in my pants, my lack of a girlfriend, and my thin frame....could I look at some scooters?

Thursday, January 4, 2007

Headed back to G-ville to pick up the Frankensteiner then I'm going to relax for a few and eat some homecooking, It'll be a nice change to the pre-packaged stuff that I've grown used to eating. I'll let the melon adjust to normal after the brain swellage. If you happen to run across and interesting ladies that A.) stay up late, B.)sleep during the day, C.) wouldn't mind a dude cooking for them, D.) Can effectively take a once social person and get them back into the groove of life, E.) Don't mind randomness and F.) laugh at humorous things that only I find funny ...send her my way. Or you can wrap up her head and put it in a box addressed to 5 Ghetto Ln. Schenectadirt NY. I'll have my people pick it up we'll ahve dinner, chat, maybe watch a movie...

After spending a great amount of time with all the R's refitting, refurbishing, replacing, realigning, refiltering, rebuilding, I've decided that I'm still going to look for a new vehicle. I've also decided that I'm not going to look for a new ussed vehicle...I'm ready to purchase a mode of transportation that I can beat into the ground, rather than buy transport that has already had the proverbial shite pounded out of it by a previous owner only to inherit the problems.

I sent out a feeler and wouldn't you know it...all the local dealers are ready to play ball. I've been contacted by sales people from every area dealership and I'm ready to get rolling. All of these Sales people have already struck me as Type A personlaities and I'm not prone to working well with that particular brand of individual especially if I'm going to be spending 5years giving them money. I will say that I've done my research and that I'm ready for all their games. If I happen to hear "This car was made for you" or "You're taking food out of my baby's mouth" I'm ready with witty rebuttal. If in fact the cliches happen to come up in conversation I doubt that I alone would be taking food out a baby's mouth if the sales person in question is making 25k a month. That equals bad parenting and a frivolous life style, something that is another topic altogether. I'll just politely tell the person "a rolex would feed his/her child all damn year....send in another drone I'm finished with this one". "If the car was made for me....why didn't they drop it off at my place, that's a wicked re-gift"

In my research I found a web address that was quite helpful www.edmunds.com I recommend checking it out.

In any event now that the Frankensteiner now has a new heater, heating fan, starter and transmission I'm sure it'll be around until summer. So my new plan is to spend Fridays lazily moseying to dealerships in a quest to beat the sysytem. Since car selling is a game of wills, dominance, and being able to push your opponent into a situation that he or she feels comfortable in and also thinks is getting the better of you. I'm game. In fact I'm going to take three months to just play the game itself, and see if I can get their hopes up only to smash them down into little pieces. The Type A's will look at me as a no-buyer, and pawn me off on someone who actually gives a rats-ass.

The waiting game is one way for sales people to show their dominance, "I'll go talk to the manager" twenty minutes later you've already exhausted your supply of boogers, had your thumb in your butt not once but twice, an you could recite the names in the plaque on the wall from memory. After returning and leaving the 4th time it gets abit annoying. I'm going to break that mold and here's how,

I'm going to bring one of each of the following:A YoYoAn Application to the 2007 Air Guitar World ChampionshipsA walkman circa 1982 w/o batteries. Laugh go ahead, I have one and I'm bringing it and practicin' in the showroomA calculator (those of you who know me, know I'll need this Shaggy can't Add) if you type 58008 it spells BOOBS upside downA drawing pad and brush tipped markerTwo apples ( Or them if you prefer)A copy of How To Master The Art Of Selling, I'll read it upside down while waitingAnd a list of demands which need to be met

Demands:The vehicle must sit higher than a normal sized car ( I'm night blind and get anxious in oncoming traffic)I own two CD's I want a two disc changer or the manual equivalent.It has to have built in cup holdersI have to be able to sleep in it. It must be able to stow my golf clubs while I sleep in it.It must have a bed, box, or roof rack.I have to look good in it, not for anyone else for pure narcissistic vanity.The driver side windshield wiper fluid dispenser must shoot the fluid over the cab missing the windshield entirely(I'm so used to it already why change it) get it doneThe payments must be at or below my current buttfisting rates.

I look forward to my first forray into the Dealership Woods.

If by chance you have any advice, clog up the comments, I'll do anything short of creating jail time for myself.

How can I consciously do such a thing with the car sales people and their valuable time you ask?? I have the social skills of a beaten fighting pitbull and I'm evil or if you prefer I have a secret. (My secret, I have good credit and two banks ready to give me a blank check with 4.9% APR: that's 4.9% locked until June). Scary, Bob's gots credit. whoa take a breath!

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

Floating bone fragment in my chin, moderate concussion, whiplash from the impact equivilent to a 45mph carwreck. And enough pharmacicles to dampen the pain have returned me to work. Good times, good times.

There is nothing more fun that taking a Vacation day, eating soup and dealing wiht a thunderboomin' headache that keeps you from focusing on anything for 24hrs of sleeplessness. I'm lovin life right now

Monday, January 1, 2007

Two days after a spectacular bout of self destruction I'm feeling much better. Although I've seen conflicting information about concussions over the years, I took the best of both worlds and combined them to make me feel better. I'm not using over the counter drugs, and I'm sleeping it off. Some of you might think this is bad...I beg to differ only becuase medical professionals can't make up their minds as to how to correctly fix a brain shaking like the one I recieved in the wee hours of Sunday morning somewhere between the bathroom, and the couch I eventually crawled to. I don't know if I was unconscious but from the feeling I have now I definitely didn't skimp on the falling power of my body nor did I spread out the contact area choosing, well, not choosing to concentrate the blow to my chin. I feel like the first dude you fight in the old Mike Tyson's Punch Out game, "Glass Joe"

I have no doubt that I'll be feeling better by the weekend, and if not it's sleepies for this guy for a few days.